


Feathers and Fur (Man is Wolf to Man Remix)

by FoMT



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animalistic, Captivity, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, M/M, Rescue, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoMT/pseuds/FoMT
Summary: More than a year after the dragon hunt, Jaskier rescues Geralt.A remix of Homo Homini Lupus Est (Man is Wolf to Man) by inexplicifics.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 41
Kudos: 736
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	Feathers and Fur (Man is Wolf to Man Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inexplicifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Homo Homini Lupus Est (Man Is Wolf To Man)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130336) by [inexplicifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics). 



> A retelling of Homo Homini Lupus Est from the opposite POVs.
> 
> Slightly more relationship-coded than the original, but only _very_ slightly.

It has been over a year since that fateful day on the mountain, and Jaskier is doing _fine_. He's performing as usual (though none of his usual fare—singing of Geralt still _hurts_ and all that comes out are melancholy love songs). He's making coin. He's drinking in the evenings, maybe a little heavier than usual. He's drowning out the loneliness and heartache with stubborn and righteous anger.

He hasn't seen Geralt since. Given how they used to run into each other quite by coincidence before, Jaskier assumes that Geralt is actively avoiding him now. Which is fine. Good riddance, really. 

Of course, this constructed calm is shattered immediately when Yennefer appears in a tavern one night in the middle of his set. And she doesn't just walk in the door like a normal person—oh, no—she _portals into the middle of the inn, what the hell is she thinking._

Jaskier stops playing abruptly, but no one was paying attention anymore anyway, all too distracted by the portal. He stalks up to her and roughly tugs her arm, directing her to his rented room. She brushes off his hand none-too-lightly, but follows him up without comment. 

Jaskier waits until the door is closed to explode. "What the hell were you thinking, portaling into the middle of a tavern? Bloody sorceress." 

"Jaskier," she says calmly, but he isn't listening. 

"The world doesn't revolve around you, you know! You do realize—" 

"Jaskier!" She tries again, louder and more insistently. 

"—that's how I make money? But no, no consideration for anyone but—" 

"Jaskier, Geralt has been taken!" 

"—yours—" Jaskier stops, losing track of his argument. "Taken? Taken by whom?" He then remembers he's supposed to be angry, and forces the concern from his face. "And why should I care about that, anyway?" But his thoughts go back to how he hasn't seen Geralt since the mountain. How long has he been captured for? Was that why Jaskier wasn't seeing him on the road? He'd also heard rumors about Geralt traveling with the princess of Cintra a while back… Honestly, Jaskier's glad he finally went back for her. Even if he threw Jaskier away, at least he was taking care of her. The girl deserves to be loved. And Geralt has a responsibility to her. 

He realizes that he's been ignoring Yennefer. "—and it took me about two more months to find him. But I can't get any closer. They're employing too many mages, I can't fight them all off by myself, and if I get too close, they'll find me immediately. It has to be you." 

"Who has him?" Jaskier asks. 

Yennefer looks exasperated. "Nilfgaard. For at least six months. Maybe more. Will you help?" She's not exactly begging, but it's as close to begging as Jaskier has ever seen her. 

"I—what do you need me to do?" 

* 

They spend nearly two days planning, during which time Jaskier is invited to Yennefer's hideaway, meets Ciri, who is hesitant around him for all of two minutes before catching on to how harmless he is, and gets to surprise Yennefer with his talents at espionage. He's then sent off to the town nearest to the Nilfgaardian fortress where Geralt is being held with just a pair of lockpicking pins sewn into his doublet, a chain around his neck (supposedly enchanted in a way that couldn't be noticed by mages), and instructions to pick a fight with the soldiers _just enough_ to get imprisoned where Geralt was. Easy. 

Jaskier decides to wander casually through the streets singing bawdy songs about the Emperor's dick and how his soldiers worship it, keeping it tame enough for them not to execute him on sight, but annoying enough that they'd want him as far back in the keep as possible. 

All things considered, it works well, and Jaskier works hard to mask his joy at seeing Geralt, at least until the guards have backed out of the room, leaving only one post at the door. Fantastic. He keeps harping about the indecency or some such about being thrown in a cell until he's sure they're gone, then turns to properly take Geralt in. 

Geralt… does not look like Jaskier remembers. Which could be for a number of reasons. The beard, for one. It's scraggly and unevenly cut, so clearly the guards are only cutting it when it becomes inconvenient. His hair tie is gone, and his hair in horrible, dirty tangles which hurt Jaskier to look at. And of course, he's completely nude, unless the formidable layers of dirt covering him head to toe count. Worse than all of that, Geralt stares at Jaskier like a stranger. It's incredibly unnerving. Jaskier has seen Geralt covered in all sorts of grime after hunts, but never since their beginning have his eyes been so indifferent when looking at him. 

Concerned, Jaskier walks toward him and reaches out a hand without even thinking about it, trying to see him better in the gloom. Geralt might be injured, after all, but it’s hard to tell under all the dirt and the cover of darkness. 

Geralt pounces on him, grabbing his throat and pinning him to the wall. Not the reaction Jaskier was expecting, but if Geralt has some kind of amnesia, he supposes it's warranted to be wary. Still, he knows Geralt. He'd never hurt anyone who can't fight back. So Jaskier relaxes and watches and waits. 

Geralt freezes for a long moment, staring back. "Geralt," Jaskier says, feeling his neck work against the grip Geralt has on it. And then says it again, and again. Slowly, Geralt leans forward, sniffing at his neck, and Jaskier relaxes further, with a huff. He's pretty sure Geralt doesn't realize how very like a wolf he really is, but this is nowhere near the first time he's sniffed Jaskier. Geralt releases Jaskier and takes a step back, and Jaskier smiles fondly at him. It's hard to keep the fondness back, seeing all the little traits that he missed so much. Harder still to hold onto the anger. 

"Geralt," Jaskier repeats lightly, reaching out slower now, so Geralt can flinch away or stop him if he's uncomfortable. But he stands still, so Jaskier cups his cheek. They'd never been in a situation for Jaskier to do this before, and surely if Geralt was in his right mind he would hate it, but this Geralt just leans into his palm, and Jaskier unconsciously smiles wider. 

Geralt suddenly tilts forward, nuzzling into Jaskier's neck, and he yelps in surprise. But this is a rather nice change, and he's unwilling to deny Geralt some small comfort when he's clearly been abused for months on end. Now that he's closer, Jaskier can tell that some of the marks on his skin are much newer, though his witcher healing seems to be working fine, as none of them are bloody. He wonders again how long exactly Geralt has been in this place. And more importantly, he imagines, how long it's _felt_ like. His resolve to get Geralt out of here tonight hardens. Geralt might have been a dick to him the last time they saw each other, but no one deserves this kind of treatment. 

Geralt seems happy for the moment where he is though, and Jaskier is getting bored, so he talks. "I suppose it's nice to see you, Geralt. Despite how we left things off last time, but… we'll leave that aside for the moment, shall we? I saw the others. You've got quite a little family now, don't you? You might want to wash up before you see them again though because, Geralt, I have never seen a man so thoroughly covered in mud. Did you roll around in it on purpose? Did you, Geralt? And this hair!" Jaskier strokes a hand very, very carefully through Geralt's hair, avoiding pulling at it. "Geralt, you know how much it pains me when you don't take proper care of your hair. It looks like actual birds have nested in it. Don't worry, I'll get you in a nice, proper bath when we get back and untangle this whole mess… Geralt?" 

Geralt had stumbled back a step, staring intently at Jaskier with what might be comprehension. Jaskier keeps his gaze. He's never been shy of staring at Geralt. "Geralt?" He repeats. 

Geralt crumples suddenly to sit cross-legged on the floor. Jaskier follows after, alarmed. "Are you hurt? Geralt, what's wrong? Geralt, talk to me." He tries to look more carefully at Geralt's wounds, but doesn't know where he can touch without hurting him. 

Geralt gently catches and holds his wrists, and Jaskier lets him. "Can you speak? Geralt? You don't seem to want to, at any rate. But there's recognition there. Do you recognize your name, Geralt? Is that it?" He stares for a moment at Geralt, then continues on as though Geralt responded. "Well, that's good at least. But I need to know if you're injured. You're moving all right, so I suppose if it's nothing serious we can get back to the house first. What do you think, Geralt? Maybe get you cleaned up first, then we can see what we're working with. Hells, with your rate of healing, there may be nothing to do by then!" 

Geralt has been studying his captured hands closely throughout Jaskier's monologue, so Jaskier is looking away when Geralt _licks him._ He makes a very unattractive choking sound in surprise, then laughs breathily. "What in the world…? Geralt," he exclaims, "you don't just go around licking people." He can't help but be charmed by the easy, simple affection. After so long alone, Jaskier figures he'd be rather handsy himself. He hadn't expected it from Geralt, though. 

It’s very welcome, to be sure. But it does raise Jaskier's concerns about his mental state, and how permanent a state it may be. 

Geralt tugs him forward, and Jaskier follows obligingly. Without any verbal instruction, it takes a little while to understand what he wants, but Jaskier soon finds himself in Geralt's lap, entirely encompassed by warm, bare skin. He tenses instinctively, this close to Geralt's naked body, but forces himself to relax. Geralt is in a sensitive state of mind, and Jaskier will bear anything that makes him more at ease. In the meantime, he continues talking. It helps to get his thoughts out loud, and Geralt doesn't seem to mind. 

"Now then, Geralt. Geralt? Are you listening, Geralt? Geralt!" He knows Geralt at least has some recognition of his name, and as he suspected, Geralt nuzzles his neck and hums lowly. "I know you've been in here for what must feel like far too long, but hold out for just a little longer, hm, Geralt? I'll get us out of here. Or, more correctly, the witch will. At least, once we get out of this cage. Apparently it's dimeritium, did you know that, that's one of the reasons it took so long to find you. She couldn't see you unless they brought you out of the cage, which I suppose didn't happen very often? What do you think, is that right? Geralt?" Geralt doesn't respond, but Jaskier continues rambling whatever comes to mind. 

It had grown dark since Jaskier was captured, and after a time, the noise of activity further in the keep noticeably drops off. Jaskier quiets to confirm that they've shifted over to night shifts, and the moment he is certain they won't be spotted leaving the cell, he goes to work. Jaskier slips his hands out of Geralt's hold, tugging him up too, and goes for the lock. Geralt just stands there, obediently, holding Jaskier's hand. Jaskier's almost afraid of what will happen at this point if he lets go. If Geralt makes noise at an inopportune time, the whole plan could go up in smoke. So he tugs Geralt forward and wraps the arm he's holding around himself, leaving his hands free to work the lock. Geralt settles calmly against his back, resting his chin on his shoulder. Jaskier forces himself not to react, and concentrates on feeling the turning of the lock mechanisms. 

After a few minutes he feels it shift, and carefully removes the lock. Before he can do any more, though, Geralt pushes him gently to the side, and opens the door himself. The next second Geralt's all the way down the hall, cleanly snapping the guard's neck with his _hands._ He's always had his swords before, so Jaskier's never seen him do that, though he often suspected that he could. He sneaks down the hallway after Geralt, and touches his shoulder to lead him down the hall. Geralt looks somewhat puzzled, but follows. He seems to be getting back some of his expressions by being around Jaskier, which is encouraging. 

Yennefer has already managed some scrying into the building and the patrol routes. Getting out of the keep without using magic will be nearly impossible—there are too many guards. The best option, they decided, would be to find a quiet place deeper in the keep, one where magic wasn't blocked by too much dimeritium, and signal their location by breaking Jaskier's necklace so Yennefer could summon them a portal. Yennefer had pointed out one particular area of the keep that the sentries didn't seem to pass by. Jaskier heads directly towards it by memory, stepping lightly and listening carefully at corners to avoid any patrols on the way. 

Jaskier opens a random door, just to get them out of the hallway, and bars the door behind them, removing the chain from his neck. He doesn’t have the strength for this, he realizes, and nudges Geralt for assistance. "Break this for me," he tells him, miming pulling the chain apart before thrusting it into Geralt's hands. Geralt blinks at him, and hesitantly takes the chain. Jaskier hums encouragingly at him, and Geralt rips through the chain as though it were made of paper. Completely unfair, that strength. 

Geralt tenses and pulls Jaskier behind himself, as though an attack was coming. "No, no, Geralt, it's okay, everything's okay." The portal opens in front of Geralt, and Jaskier pushes him lightly towards it. "Geralt, it's okay, but we need to go now. Just go through the portal. I know you don't like them but—" 

"Jaskier, any day now!" Yennefer calls from the other side of the portal. "I can't hold this forever!" 

Jaskier groans. He's _trying!_ He wiggles out from behind Geralt (a skill he's perfected over the years travelling together—Geralt never did want him to see anything interesting), and pulls Geralt with him, walking backwards through the portal. Geralt growls, but doesn't put up any more protest. 

Very unnerving. 

* 

The wolf continues growling as the portal closes behind him. The surroundings are brighter—and closer quarters—than the big stone building they came from, but they're still entirely new and _not safe._ Still, his packmate smells calm and unworried, so he keeps himself relaxed, if still wary. 

There is also a mage in this new place—the one who created the portal, it must be—who speaks his name. Mages hurt, and the wolf growls at her, putting himself between the mage and his packmate and backing away to put more space between the two. But his packmate wraps himself around the wolf, saying his name and making reassuring noises. He relaxes slightly. 

He doesn't trust the mage, but she hasn't moved closer, and his packmate isn't concerned. The mage makes noises, and then his packmate makes noises—responding. The wolf listens, but doesn't try to understand the words. They both sound calm. Instead, he pulls his packmate closer by his forearms, still watching the mage carefully. Finally, they move, but only to sit on one of the wooden items scattered around the room. 

The mage and his packmate continue talking to each other, but they both look at him frequently. The wolf keeps his eyes on the mage. At some point, she stretches her hand out and makes soft noises at him, and he tenses slightly, but it stops before it reaches him or his packmate. Still, he gives a warning rumble. 

His packmate soothes with noises and touches. The hand hangs in the air like an offering. He doesn't understand, but there's something familiar about the faint scent of lilac and gooseberries that emanates gently from her. He approaches carefully, keeping his packmate close. His packmate isn't the best at understanding danger, and the wolf worries that he may need to pick up and move him if the mage turns on them. 

He sniffs at the hand. It has the same lilac and gooseberry scent as the magic that made the portal. But the scent is stronger here, and… as he thought, familiar somehow. Even when he gets closer, the hand doesn't reach to touch him, or glow with magic. Satisfied that the mage isn't an enemy, at least, he stands again, no longer growling. The mage and his packmate both relax, but he keeps his packmate behind him, away from the mage. 

She may not be a danger, but his packmate is _his._

Not long after, the wolf is led to another room by his packmate. He's grateful to get away from the mage for a bit, but the new room makes him anxious. The air is heavy with heat. The burning smell and hazy quality of the air remind the wolf of the dark-plumaged humans pressing glowing metal to his skin. They would make loud, angry mouth-noises as they struck him, and laugh when he let a whimper escape. Heat hurts. The wolf whines. The smell is slightly different than what he remembers, but not so different as to risk it. 

But his packmate seems unconcerned. He sheds his colorful plumage and holds out a hand. The wolf continues whining, distressed at the burning, but his packmate is entering the burning water, and the wolf _trusts_ him. He steps in. 

The burning water is… definitely hot. But it doesn't make his skin blister and sear like the metal did. It's actually kind of nice. A hazy almost-memory of soaking like this surfaces—steaming water, his packmate's quiet murmuring, hands in his hair… He sinks further into the water, rumbling in approval. The memory sharpens slightly as his packmate does just as he remembers, mumbling noises and running his hands carefully through the wolf's hair. It's _bliss._ He never wants to leave. 

Unfortunately, he also doesn't want to let his packmate out of his sight, and his packmate _definitely_ wants to leave. He whines, but can't quite get words out to make his packmate stop. Finally the anxiety of seeing his packmate leave hits hard—it feels like déjà vu; how many times has he seen that back walking away?—and he rushes after him, pressing up against his back and nuzzling his hair, as much to soothe his packmate as himself. 

His packmate makes fussy noises as he takes a number of white cloths and rubs them all over the wolf. He's curious about the practice, but it is very convenient how it makes him dry so quickly. The dark-plumaged humans never cared about drying him. They would splash him with cold water occasionally, but he never felt clean afterwards. 

His packmate then hands him a bundle of cloth, talking at him while moving his hands and legs wildly. Clearly he's expected to do something, but between the oddly-shaped cloth and his packmate’s motions, he can’t figure out what it's supposed to be. Finally, his packmate takes the cloth back, and pulls up on the wolf's ankle until he lifts his foot, and slips the cloth over one, then both legs, pulling them up and fastening them with some complicated little movements around his waist. He looks on in amusement. What is the purpose of this? It's slightly tight and uncomfortable against his skin, but his packmate seems satisfied, so he keeps it. 

He is then led from the burning water room to yet another new room, this one full of food-smell. Sweet smells, rich smells, spicy smells… They're a little overwhelming, but he goes immediately for the meat. All the meat he can remember eating has been cold and raw and halfway to rotten, but he could smell when the dark-plumaged humans ate, and the fragrant scent of meat-juice always made him hungry and irritable. He takes his bounty to the nearest corner (where he will be safest) and digs in immediately, eying his packmate and the mage. His captors would occasionally laugh over taking his food away from him. But surely… his packmate wouldn't? 

Sure enough, his packmate gathers foodthings and brings them over to him. He's doesn't remember what any of it is, but his packmate is offering it, so it must be good. And everything _smells_ like food. His packmate isn't sitting, though, so he pulls him down next to him. His packmate took care of him this far, yet the wolf hasn't done anything yet in return. He picks up one of the colorful, sweet-smelling foodthings and presents it to his packmate, humming softly at him. _Eat,_ he thinks, _let me take care of you._

His packmate smells slightly of shock, but mostly of happiness, and makes a yelping noise, and he nudges the foodthing closer to his packmate's mouth. He doesn't seem to want it, and the wolf whines unconsciously, feeling dejected. His packmate seems to catch on, then, and accepts the foodthing. And continues accepting careful little bites of all the foodthings that he gathered for them. 

The wolf feeds himself much differently. Still with an underlying concern that the food will disappear somehow, he takes large bites of anything he can reach and chews them purposefully as he rips small pieces of meat off for his packmate. After a long moment of careful feeding and slightly less careful eating, the food is gone, and the wolf's belly is satisfied. He can't remember a time that he's not been hungry, but there must have _been_ a time. He traveled with his packmate once, and they wouldn't let each other go hungry. He pulls his packmate into his lap and curls around him, content, as he starts singing. His packmate is _happy_ when he sings. 

* 

Jaskier stops singing as Yennefer reenters with Ciri. He hasn't known the girl for long, but it's clear she loves Geralt because she sprints towards them with tears in her eyes, and Geralt unwraps one arm from Jaskier to catch her and gasps loudly and then just seems to _stop breathing and stare upwards at nothing and it's really fucking concerning Geralt—_

Jaskier blames that concerning reaction on why it takes him so long to realize Geralt's finally regained speech. But before he can get himself riled up again, Geralt cups _his_ face and. Well. That's never happened before. Not even during his feral stage. And Geralt asks him to talk, also a first. He lets his stream of consciousness out, without paying much attention to it, concentrating more on the warm spot on his cheek where Geralt's hand is still pressed to it. He worries that Geralt will snap back to reality and remember how much he hates him. And the hand will go away. 

Instead, Geralt looks at him and _apologizes._ Jaskier gapes like a fish, because _how could he not?_ Geralt _never_ apologizes. He's sure he must have misheard. 

But no. Blanket apology though it may be, Geralt looks sincere when he repeats it. Jaskier isn't quite sure what to do with that, so he breezes by into the next bit of conversation, only to be completely blown away _again_ as Geralt _thanks him._

He wonders if they rescued the right witcher. 

Geralt explains (with as many words as he explains anything) what happened to him during his capture, and a few things slot into place in Jaskier's mind. _All that was left was wolf._ The growling and the nakedness and the lack of speech make much more sense now. "So what was with the… cuddling…?" he asks aloud. 

Geralt makes a very uncharacteristic nervous gesture, and bites out, "you're pack." 

"I'm _pack_ ," Jaskier repeats, a little faintly. Seriously? After all they've been through? Well… actually, maybe that makes sense. If his instincts were ignoring the mountain incident, and all the harsh words Geralt said before the mountain incident (that until that moment Jaskier had _also_ been ignoring), “pack” was actually a very obvious conclusion for Geralt's wolfy instincts to be making. Huh. Now that's something to think about. 

Jaskier snaps out of his thoughts and points out the overall droopiness of the crew, shuffling everyone off to bed. As Yennefer suggested, he heads blindly to the guest room, only to freeze halfway to the bed, belatedly realizing the implications. 

Geralt snaps him out of his panicking. "If you want the bed, it's yours. But if you're willing, I'd like to share it with you. I… would sleep better, knowing you're safe." Jaskier gapes again. He's been stunned so often that day that he feels like either his jaw should've broken off by now or he should've gotten over being shocked by anything. 

He repeats his thought from earlier. "Are we _completely_ sure I rescued the right witcher?" Wolf-Geralt was cuddly, sure, but Jaskier hadn't expected it to bleed through into actual Geralt. If that's what was happening. "Because that sounded an awful lot like you talking about your _feelings,_ and the Geralt I know just _doesn't do that._ " 

"The Geralt you know also hadn't just spent gods knows how long as a _wolf._ " Geralt's voice is growlier than usual, most likely partly due to not using it much in the recent months. But Jaskier can still make out the slight embarrassment coloring his tone. "You're _pack._ It's… overwhelming." 

Jaskier mouths the word, mulling it over. He can't imagine what's going on in Geralt's head. But he's never really even had the _regular_ set of animal instincts. Even his fight-or-flight instinct is off—in the past, Geralt commented multiple times on how often he'll run from something harmless, or pick fights with men much larger than him. 

"Alright," he agrees finally. "Not the first time we've shared a bed." He pokes Geralt in the chest, a false bravado to mask the hesitance he still feels. "But you're not allowed to wake up nonverbal again, alright? Wolf-Geralt is very cuddly but I prefer you _sane._ " 

Geralt nods and agrees. He's being very proper and verbose, and while it was nice for a while after the growling and whining, it's getting weird now. "Are you _sure_ you're all the way back? You're being weirdly cooperative. And you haven't grunted at me once." 

Geralt takes this opportune moment to grunt at him, and it somehow breaks the tension that had been holding Jaskier together and he _breaks,_ falling back onto the bed and laughing high-pitched and hysterical until he's in stitches and can hardly breathe. Geralt sits beside him and just watches as Jaskier falls apart. When he has enough breath left to make words, Jaskier punches out, "you _fucking asshole._ " He's not sure if it's for setting him off or for… everything else. 

Geralt hums in agreement anyways. 

Jaskier squirms under the covers and ushers Geralt over. "Well? Come on." Geralt gets in, but after all that emotional maturity, he seems to be reverting back because he freezes, just barely on the bed. 

Jaskier flips onto his side facing away, giving Geralt his back. Wolf-Geralt seemed to particularly enjoy hugging him from behind, but Geralt doesn't move. Jaskier can picture him behind him—tense, frowning, gripping his hands together to hold back from doing anything that could be deemed vulnerable. Even after the conversation they just had? "Come _here,_ you stubborn brute," he says, and reaches back to find Geralt's hand and drag it over him, cuddling it to his chest. Geralt follows easily and curls into his back, nose at his nape. 

"There. Now sleep," he says, already drifting off.

Geralt hums again, and it knocks one last little stifled giggle out of Jaskier before the exhaustion takes him.


End file.
